And That Was That
by Mummyluvr
Summary: Turns out the boys' latest hunt wasn't quite finished,and a curse leads Sam to a new understanding of his brother's past. No longer a one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

Honstly, this was written on a whim. Like a couple of other one-shots I've worked on or am currently working on, it was meant to be part of a bigger story that just didn't ahve an actual plot. It's one of the scenes that I liked, so I went with it. Please enjoy it and review if you like it (or don't)

**Title:** And That Was That

**Summary:** Turns out the boys' latest hunt wasn't quite finished,and a curse leads Sam to a new understanding of his brother's past. One-shot.

**Rating:** K

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. It all belongs to the Kripkeeper, and he ain't sharing!

**

* * *

****And That Was That**

It had been a long day. A long, quiet day. Almost too quiet, and that worried Sam. Dean was never that quiet. The only times he'd bothered to even speak that day were to wake Sam up and admit that he remembered everything.

He'd sounded pretty unhappy about that last part.

Sammy couldn't blame him for being unhappy, though. After all, they'd both thought the hunt was over. Who knew witches had so many friends?

Well, _they_ did. Now.

Sam sighed, lacing his fingers together behind his head and closing his eyes as shadows played across the ceiling. Yes, it had been a long day. A long day of researching, of wondering what was going through his brother's head, of calling everyone in his circle and getting no definitive answer to their problem.

At least Dean remembered. If he didn't, if he had no idea where he was or who he was with, it would have been harder. Taking care of a five-year-old wasn't exactly something Sam had much experience in.

He sighed again, willing sleep to come. He needed rest. He needed to recharge. It seemed like he was tackling this whole curse alone, like Dean was spacing off to some other world, lost deep in thought.

Maybe that was part of the curse. It didn't seem likely, but anything was possible. After all, Dean _was_ five.

Sam opened his eyes, glancing over at the other bed, where his brother had curled up into a little ball under the covers, hugging one of his pillows like a real child would hug a teddy bear. Not that Dean would have known how that went. He'd never even had a teddy bear, to Sam's knowledge.

He turned back to the ceiling and closed his eyes again, his mind still racing. This was bad. This was worse than bad. He was starting to feel sorry for the kid his brother had become, had started to think- probably due mostly to the unnatural silence- that he was just a kid, that he needed to be taken care of. No way that would fly with Dean. He was too proud to be fussed over. He could take care of himself.

Sam nodded to himself. Yeah, he would just have to keep reminding himself who that little freckle-faced kid really was. If he didn't, he might just step into an embarrassing trap. Maybe that was the reason for the silence.

The sound of covers rustling reached his ears and he fought the urge to glance back at Dean's bed. To do so would send him right into that trap. So, Sam laid perfectly still, his eyes shut tight, and waited for his brother to settle back in.

Except Dean didn't settle. He got out of bed, took a couple of soft steps, and stopped. Sam could feel hot breath on his face, fast breath, scared breath. Still, he fought the urge to take a look at his brother.

"Sammy?" he heard the boy whisper, maybe the seventh word he'd said all day, "Sam, are you awake?"

He didn't move. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that told him to keep still, maybe curiosity, maybe newfound Big Brother Senses. Whatever it was, he listened to it.

"Sam?" Dean asked again, his voice softer this time, "I had a bad dream. I… I'm scared."

It was getting harder to keep from looking at his brother, but now it was definitely curiosity keeping Sam's eyes shut. He strained to listen as his brother's voice lowered.

"I used to do this all the time," he said, his voice barely more than an exhalation of breath, "at Bobby's, I mean. Dad would have killed me. I dunno why, but it made me feel better. Like I was safe or something."

Sam had to hold his breath to hear the words, and even then they didn't make any sense. As far as he knew, Dean had never had a habit of sleepwalking, but then again, he couldn't remember back to the older man's early childhood, so anything was possible.

Then he felt cold. The covers were pulled slowly off the upper half of his body and a slight pressure was added to the mattress beside him. The covers went back up, covered him up to his shoulders. He waited.

Small fingers wrapped themselves around his arm, pulling it from underneath the pillow and to his side. He felt a warm bundle snuggle up beside him, so close that he could feel the tiny body shaking.

"Please don't wake up," Dean whispered, reaching back to grab his brother's hand and guide it around his body, wrapping Sam's arm around him, making sure his brother was holding him close. "Please don't get mad."

He laid his head down on Sam's chest, and the usually-younger man was suddenly afraid. What if he couldn't control his heartbeat? What if it was fast enough that Dean knew he was awake, that he had heard everything?

Apparently, his heartbeat wasn't a problem, because Dean settled right in, wrapping small arms around him and snuggling even closer.

"Safe," Dean whispered. "Bobby wasn't gonna let anything happen to me, just like I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you. And you're gonna keep me safe, right?"

Sam almost held his breath. He almost answered. That could have been disastrous.

"No. You won't." Dean paused, letting out a little sigh that made him sound so young that Sam actually ached for what they had lost, for that mythical thing called childhood that had burnt up along with their mother. "I wish I didn't remember," Dean finally continued, "that I thought I was just a kid. Then I wouldn't have to worry. You would take care of everything." He paused again, as if contemplating what to say next, as if evaluating whether or not if was a good idea to say what he wanted to. "You would take care of me."

And that was it. A lifetime of having to be the protector, of always being the good son, but never the favored one, of always letting Sam get what he wanted without asking for anything for himself. It was all summed up into that one statement. To Hell with women and beer and hustled pool games. To Hell with hunting. To Hell with being a soldier. All he wanted was to be taken care of, just once. Even when he was cursed, Dean couldn't seem to catch a break.

The way Sam saw it, he had two choices. He could pretend that the night had never happened. He could go to sleep and act like nothing was different. Or he could do something about it. After all, he'd always had someone to run to when the nightmares got to be too much. He'd never wondered who comforted Dean.

Steeling himself for whatever outcome he would face, Sam opened his mouth. "I'll pretend if you will," he whispered. And that was that.

* * *

Well, that's that. The end. Hope you enjoyed it. Drop a line! 


	2. Chapter 2

All right. Back by popular demand (Jeez, guys, lay off, will ya? LOL) is "And That Was That." Please enjoy it. I sure had fun writing it.

Just a note: flashbacks are in italics!

* * *

**Two Months Later**

He was starting to get used to it. The late nights and early mornings. The barely squeaking by from day to day, week to week. He couldn't get a job. He didn't want to leave his brother home alone, didn't trust anyone else with Dean, not since the kid had decided to open up, not since he'd decided to come out of his shell.

Sam heard soft footfalls treading across the creaky floorboards behind him and turned to see his brother padding into the kitchen.

"Morning, kiddo," Sam greeted, setting two plates of breakfast onto their chipped wooden table.

Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, innocent eyes, the eyes of a trusting child, and Sam couldn't help but smile. There had been a time when he'd thought he would never see that trust.

o0o0o0o0o

_Dean jumped out of the bed, his body literally leaving the mattress, and Sam had to reach out and grab him to keep him from falling off the bed. "It's ok, it's ok," he muttered, pulling the tiny body close as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Dean struggled, tried to worm his way out of his brother's strong grip, but Sam wouldn't let go. "What is it?"_

_"I'm sorry," Dean moaned, his voice cracked and plaintive, so young and yet so old, so tired._

_"For what?" Sammy asked, his body stiffening as something wet slipped from his brother's face and down his own bare chest. Dean was crying. "What's wrong," he ran a shaking hand through his brother's hair._

_Dean turned wide, scared eyes up at him. "I woke you up," he whispered._

_"I was already awake," Sam admitted, immediately regretting the words as Dean paled visibly in his arms._

_"You heard?"_

_"I heard," he said slowly, "but it's ok-"_

_"It's not ok," Dean shouted, struggling from his brother's grip and falling onto the floor. He scooted backward across the faded carpet until he was leaning against a wall, his eyes never meeting his brother's. "I'm a freak. And a baby. It's no wonder dad hated me."_

_"He didn't hate you-"_

_"You didn't see the way he looked at me."_

_"Dad had problems, Dean," Sam muttered, "but you're not a freak, or a baby. I mean, you said that Bobby-"_

_"Don't tell him!"_

_"I wasn't going to. But why would it matter?"_

_Dean hung his head, swiping at his eyes. "He was asleep. He never knew. I'm sorry. I didn't think-"_

_"And I said it's all right," Sam interrupted, sliding from his bed onto the floor and slowly approaching the cowering figure of his brother, "it's ok. You never got what most kids got. You were too busy taking care of me. The least I can do is return the favor."_

_The boy looked up at him with hurt eyes, hard eyes, untrusting eyes. Sam realized that, as much as the curse had changed him, Dean was still Dean, and he had learned a long time ago that people just couldn't be trusted. Especially family._

_Sighing, Sam spread his arms wide. "Come on," he said, flashing the boy what he hoped was a comforting smile._

_Dean's eyes widened again, the mistrust flashing across his face. "You'll pretend?" he whispered._

_"Yeah, I'll pretend."_

_"You promise?"_

_"I promise."_

_His eyes still showing his doubt, Dean slowly made his way across the floor and into his brother's arms._

o0o0o0o0o0o

"What are we gonna do today?" Dean asked through a mouthful of eggs, his little legs kicking under the table, missing Sam's own gangly limbs by mere centimeters.

"I figured we could go to the park. You up for that?"

Dean nodded. He looked over the table at his brother, his eyes suddenly no longer so young and innocent. "What about money?"

"What about it?" Sam asked, trying not to give too much away in his voice. They were running out, running out fast. He needed a job, or a free night, or anything, but he just couldn't get away. The last time he had tried…

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it, man," the now-older brother smiled, "part of our agreement, remember?'

Dean smiled again, that youth flooding back into his eyes, erasing the subtle lines on his face, banishing all doubt. "Yeah, I remember."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_Sam woke up to find only one body in his bed and the sweet scent of fresh waffles wafting through the air. He sat up to see Dean standing on a chair in the kitchenette, waiting for their breakfast to pop out of the toaster. "What are you doing?"_

_Dean actually jumped, nearly losing his balance. "Um, making breakfast."_

_"Why?"_

_"I was hungry."_

_"Why didn't you wake me up?"_

_Dean shrugged, dropping his eyes. "I can take care of myself."_

_Sam sighed. "You don't have to. Thought we established that."_

_The boy turned wide eyes up toward his brother. "It wasn't a dream?" he whispered._

_Sammy couldn't help but smile. "No. It wasn't. And I was thinking about it last night. Things are gonna change around here. For one," he slid out of his bed, crossed the room, and scooped his brother off of the chair, "no more responsibility. That means no breakfast, no lunch, no dinner, no money. You let me worry about that."_

_"What about-?"_

_"Housing, food, gas, driving, everything is on me now."_

_"Are you sure? Because that's a lot."_

_"You had to deal with it."_

_"Yeah, but I was used to it."_

_"Which is why you need a break," Sam smiled. "So, what do you want to do today?"_

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Come on," Dean called as he rushed across the playground, kicking up woodchips as he ran toward the rickety swing set. Smiling to himself, Sam followed, watching as the boy jumped up into one of the cracked blue swings. "Push me."

The simple request was like music to his ears. He set his hands firmly on the child's back and pushed, careful not to send him falling face-first into the woodchips.

There had been a time in the beginning, a time that seemed to have been eons ago, when Dean had been afraid to ask for anything. He had just stared up at Sam with those wide, innocent, little boy eyes, as if willing him to understand, to understand the fear and mistrust, the fact that nothing ever turned out the way it was supposed to.

It had taken some coaxing, but Dean had finally settled comfortably into his role as Sam's surrogate son. He seemed happy, happier than Sam could ever remember seeing him, and all it had taken was a simple scare, a betrayal of trust.

He sighed, still pushing his brother, keeping the swing going, trying to prolong the kid's fun because he had no idea how long it would last. Not after what happened in South Dakota.

He shuddered, forcing his mind to go back to something else, _anything_ else. He settled for his own childhood, the happy days when he had begged Dean to take him out to the playground, even though their father had ordered them to stay in the motel room. Dean would cave in and take him out, only to sit on the bench and watch the younger boy have fun. He was too scared that something would happen to do much else.

Sam blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Maybe that was why the kid liked playgrounds so much, why he always seemed to want to be there. He was making up for lost time.

And now he actually asked to go, instead of just giving Sam that wide-eyed look as they drove by on the way into town. It was nice.

Smiling, he pushed his brother again, sending the kid flying up into the sky, and looked across the grassy expense. Standing across the street, watching the brothers with an intense gaze, was a familiar figure.

"Higher, daddy!" Dean said, but Sam didn't hear him, could only hear the rushing of the wind in his ears. It was impossible. They had been found, had been caught, and that couldn't be good.

Dean's tennis shoes hit the woodchips hard, stopping the swing almost immediately. He turned toward Sam, his face pale, eyes wider than they'd ever been before, licking his dry lips. "I didn't mean it," he muttered softly, sliding off the swing and stumbling away from his brother, "it slipped, man, I swear-"

Sam didn't listen, just wrapped an arm around his brother and ran.

o0o0o0o0o0o

_Dean had been quiet all day again, and Sam was, again, worried. He'd thought things would get better with their new understanding, but apparently he'd been wrong._

_They'd started off the morning by eating breakfast, and if he'd thought things were strained at the table… well, he hadn't seen Wal-Mart coming._

_Dean wanted to know why they were buying him new clothes. Why couldn't they just go to Goodwill like always? Sam had heard the tone in his brother's voice, though, had seen the hopeful spark in the usually-older man's eyes. He was so used to hand-me-downs that it was time for something new._

_After getting that established, it had been a fairly nice experience for both brothers. The only trouble was check-out. Dean had headed to the bathroom while Sam paid. As soon as he had started unloading the cart, he'd figured out why._

_"I know it's none of my business," the cashier said, flashing him a charming smile, "but your boy's a little young for _Harry Potter_, isn't he?"_

_Sam blinked. "What?"_

_"The book," she held up the copy that he'd absently pulled from the cart._

_"I didn't," he began, looking back into the cart. The British boy wizard wasn't the only intruder. A small plastic bag full of green army men had been buried amongst the food and clothes, as well a stuffed bear. Shocked, he turned his gaze toward the bathroom to see Dean peeking carefully around the corner, watching him with wide eyes. "He's advanced for his age."_

_And that was that._

* * *

So, was it worth it? Drop me a line and let me know.

More to come soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Glad you guys are liking it. Got to say, I'm loving al the reviews. They make me feel special! So let's reach an agreement. I'll tell you who the "stalker" is and what happenes to the brothers, and you just keep on telling me what you think, good or bad. Sound good? Good. Here we go :)

* * *

The first thing that Sam realized as he walked through the door of the modest cabin that he'd somehow managed to scrape up the money to rent was that Dean had finally gotten used to being carried. The second thing that he realized was that his brother was being uncharacteristically quiet.

"Dean, you all right?"

The boy just looked up at him, his eyes shining, brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," he blurted, struggling to escape his brother's grip, "I didn't mean to and it just slipped out and you're better than him and I'm sorry!"

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, lowering the boy to the ground and raising his eyebrows until they had disappeared under his bangs.

Dean hung his head. "I'm sorry," he croaked out, his voice wavering now.

"For what?" The boy didn't answer. "Look, Dean, I'm sorry we had to rush out, but I thought I saw… I _did _see Bobby. He was at the park."

"Are you sure it was him?" Dean asked, raising his eyes. Whatever he'd done to possibly make Sam mad, all thoughts of it had faded from his mind.

"I'm positive."

"How'd he find us?"

"I don't know."

"Did he follow us?"

"I don't know."

Dean swallowed hard, his throat making a small clicking noise. "We have to leave now, don't we?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed, "yeah, I think we do. Pack up."

Dragging his feet, Dean trudged up to his bedroom.

o0o0o0o0o0o

_Sam laid back in his bed, eagerly awaiting a long night's sleep. He was tired. More than tired, actually. He was bone-weary. It was more work than he'd originally thought taking care of a five-year-old. He'd been running for most of the day, just trying to keep up with the kid. And it was only the beginning._

_Tiny feet padded toward his bed not even a minute after he'd closed his eyes. "Sammy?" a cautious voice asked as a small finger lightly poked his arm, "you awake?"_

_Sighing, the older man opened his eyes. "Yeah, kiddo, I'm awake. You have another nightmare?"_

_Dean shook his head, looking up at Sam with eyes so full of mistrust that the older man's heart actually skipped a beat. Slowly, the boy pulled a think book from behind his back. It was the copy of _Harry Potter_ that he'd snuck into the cart earlier that day._

_"You want a story?" Sam asked, his voice flat. It didn't seem possible. The Fearless Dean Winchester reduced to a mere child at story time, too scared to ask to be read to because the answer might be no. "All right."_

_Dean pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed beside his brother, snuggling up just as close as he had the night before. Smiling, Sam took the book from him and began to read._

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

After a while, Sam had gotten used to it. It was actually kind of nice, knowing that he was needed, that he could chase the monsters away. Back when they had still been traveling, from wherever it had been that they'd found the witch until they'd reached Bobby's house, Sam had gotten rooms with two beds. Only one of them was ever slept in.

Dean walked out of the bathroom, wiping the remnants of toothpaste off of his mouth. He grabbed a book from his small backpack and padded over toward the bed, climbing under the covers and scooting close to his brother.

Sam looped an arm around the kid. "So, I was thinking," he said softly, taking the book from the small hands and placing it onto his own lap, "and if Bobby's tracking us-"

"I can't go to school, can I?" Dean asked, his voice so soft and reserved that it made the older man's heart ache. The kid had asked to go back to school about a month before their fateful trip to the park, and Sam had agreed wholeheartedly.

"Looks like it's outta the question, at least until we can find someplace new to settle down."

Dean sighed, leaning heavily against his brother. "I wanted to go back," he whispered, "I wanted to pass and make friends and graduate. I wanted to play sports." He sighed again. "I wanted to go to college."

Sam blinked, his stomach dropping. He needed to change the subject, for his own good. He couldn't take that look, that tone of voice, the sadness that hid just below the surface.

"You kinda freaked out on me today," he said softly, reaching up to awkwardly stroke the boy's hair, "why?"

Dean turned eyes that were no longer sad, but scared, toward him. "I didn't mean to," he said, his voice barely audible, "it was an accident."

"What was?"

"Unless… it's all right with you." His whole face seemed to shine with hope at the prospect. "Because I always wanted… ever since the fire… and I tried to be for you, but it wasn't the same… I wanted…"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted someone to take care of me."

Sam nodded. "Kinda got that."

"No. I wanted _dad_ to take care of me. I wanted _a _dad. And today," he paused, staring up at Sam with those same sad eyes, the eyes that he had seen so much of in those first days after the curse, after the understanding. "Today I messed up. I guess I just started thinking of you as… and I shouldn't have because it was wrong. But it's ok," he hastily added, "because I'll pretend if you will, and nothing has to change."

"What are you talking about?"

Dean just snuggled closer under the covers, wrapping tiny arms, skinny arms, arms too thin to belong to the man that Sam had thought he knew, around his brother. "Nothing," he said, "I wanna know what happens to Harry. Does he ever find the seventh Horcrux?"

Sam sighed, opening the book. His brother was different, was younger, was weaker, was scared. And he wasn't going to wait for the movie.

o0o0o0o0o0o

_Sam needed help. That much, he was sure of. He just didn't know who else to trust, didn't know of anyone else with dealings in curses._

_"I'm glad you called," Bobby greeted him as the brothers arrived on the more experience hunter's doorstep. He looked down at Dean, his eyes widening in shock as the boy ducked back behind Sam's legs. "Really did a number on ya, huh?" Dean just nodded meekly._

_"Thanks again, Bobby," Sam muttered as he stepped inside, Dean following close behind him, "it's only been a week and I'm at my wit's end."_

_"Thought you said he remembered."_

_Sam glanced down at his brother. "He does, but… it's complicated. I'll tell you later."_

_"How about Dean unpacks your bags and you tell me now, huh?"_

_Dean glanced up at Sam, looked over at Bobby, then turned his eyes back to his brother. "Sounds good," Sam said, nodding at the boy to go get the bags. For a moment, he didn't think that Dean would do it, the kid sent him such a hurt look, such a defiant stare, the he almost went to get their stuff by himself. But Dean turned and headed out the door and to the car._

_"Now," Bobby said, lightly grabbing Sam's arm and leading him through the house to the cluttered kitchen, "what's wrong?"_

_"A witch that we killed had friends and they went after Dean, I guess," Sam explained, "turned him into a five-year-old. He told me that he remembered everything, but the first night…"_

_"What?"_

_"He… he crawled into bed with me. Said he'd had a nightmare and he was scared. He said that you used to-"_

_Bobby sighed. "He actually thought I was asleep, didn't he?"_

_"You knew?"_

_"Of course I knew. What kinda hunter would I be if something like that didn't wake me up?"_

_"But you let him-"_

_"Against my own better judgement. Look, Sam, I know that those dewy eyes of his have probably got you eating out of the palm of his hand, but-"_

_"He just wants someone to take are of him," Sam clarified, "like a second chance at childhood."_

_"Did you ever stop to think that maybe this is part of the curse? That maybe the witch planted those thoughts in his head to distract you?"_

_"But if he used to-"_

_"I mean, look at you, boy. You're run ragged already and it's only been a week. Think of what this'll do to you over the long haul."_

_Sam hung his head. "That's why I came here. I needed a break. I was kind of hoping that you could watch him for a while."_

_"Afraid I can't do that, Sam," Bobby said. "He can't stay like this."_

_"But-"_

_"Tell you what. I'll help, but in the meantime, I'm gonna look for a way to fix this."_

_"You can't. he doesn't want you to."_

_"How do you know that?"_

_"Because he's happy now," Sam blurted, "happier than I've ever seen him."_

_Bobby shook his head. "He can't stay like this. You can't handle it."_

_"I can try." And that was that._


	4. Chapter 4

Got a busy night, so there won't be much of my incredible commentary. Please enjoy!

* * *

Sam wasn't tired. He was too busy thinking. He was thinking about what Dean had said, what he had done. The thing that Sam had missed, that little slip of the tongue, that minor indiscretion that had gotten his brother so worked up. He wanted to know what it was.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on the day, on the park, on the little heart that beat in a perfect rhythm with his own.

He could remember seeing Bobby, could remember the world going suddenly silent, but not before Dean could say something. More like an ecstatic shout, really. A plea. A plea to their father. To the boy's daddy.

But that was impossible. John was dead. And even when he'd been alive, he wouldn't have been at the playground, wouldn't have been pushing his son on the swings.

Of course, it could have been mistaken identity. Except that Sam looked nothing like his father.

No, Dean had simply slipped. He'd made a mistake, just like he'd said. Hadn't they all?

What scared Sam was the nature of the mistake, though. Maybe Bobby had been right. Maybe the curse had addled Dean's mind, made him something other than Dean Winchester, something weak and scared and small.

But if it had, he wouldn't have apologized. He wouldn't have asked for permission without asking. He wouldn't have admitted to thinking of Sam as a father, as someone who could provide, even though he knew they were running low on food and money. He just trusted Sam to get them both out of it.

And trust was a dangerous thing. They had both found that out the hard way.

Sam tried not to dwell on the past, though. He had a decision to make. To father, or not to father. That seemed to be the question.

His mind flashed back, unbidden, to his own childhood, to a random scene at a playground. He had been uncharacteristically persistent., had actually forced Dean off of the bench and to the woodchips. He begged his brother to push him on the swings, as his own stumpy little legs were too weak. Dean grudgingly agreed.

As Sam, who couldn't have been older than three or four, soared into the air, he called out to his brother to push him higher. Only he called out to his daddy.

Dean hadn't skipped a beat, had told him that if he went any higher, he would fly over the bar. Sam hadn't caught his own slip, not until later. He'd felt horrible about it, had even apologized, and Dean had told him that it was all right. He was as good as a dad anyway, right? Maybe even better.

o0o0o0o0o0o

_Sam had needed the break. He'd needed time to himself, time to get away from the hectic role of day care provider. He'd left Dean in Bobby's capable hands and gone out to grab a quick bite to eat and catch a movie._

_He walked through the door of the familiar house, feeling refreshed and willing to give child-rearing another shot. He was surprised by the silence in the home. Even when he wasn't five, Dean tended to make a lot of noise._

_"Hello?" Sam called out, gazing around the abandoned entry, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight. "You guys all right?"_

_His only response was a muffled scream and soft Latin chanting. He was running in an instant, running toward the sound, toward the unknown threat to his family and friend._

_He burst into the bedroom that he and his brother shared, the one they'd always shared, and gasped. Dean had been tied up, his wrists bound firmly behind his back, and laid sideways on the bed. A piece of silver duct tape sealed his mouth shut. Bobby was sitting beside him, a large, dusty book open in his lap._

_"What the Hell are you doing?" Sam demanded, marching into the room._

_"Fixing this," Bobby replied._

_"I thought I told you not to."_

_"It's not right and you know it." He set the book down and got to his feet, gazing at Sam with threatening eyes._

_"It's not your choice," the younger man muttered, crossing the room with wide strides and scooping Dean up into his arms. For the first time in a week, the kid didn't struggle, just curled in closer to the taller man's chest, shaking._

_"He can't be in his right mind."_

_"He's happy."_

_"So you keep telling me."_

_Sam sighed, tightening his grip on his brother. "I shouldn't have come here." He spun on his heels and walked from the room. He never looked back._

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Tiny hands fisted around his light t-shirt. Sam wrapped an arm around the kid and sighed. They couldn't stop running. They would never be safe. Not if Dean wanted to stay the way he was, not if he wanted a second chance.

Sam had tried to call Bobby since leaving the house in South Dakota, had tried to explain everything, but Bobby was stubborn and truly believed that Dean was better off as the adult that he had been.

And maybe he was.

But, then again, maybe he wasn't. It wasn't for Bobby to decide, wasn't even for Sam to decide. It was Dean's choice, and he had made it. Nobody had forced his hand.

He really did seem happier.

o0o0o0o0o0o

_"He's never gonna stop," Dean said as soon as Sam had pulled off to the side of the road a good deal from Bobby's house and stripped the tape from the boy's mouth. "He's gonna hunt us down."_

_"He won't," Sam argued, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they hadn't been followed. "He'll come around. You'll see."_

_Dean sighed, turning tired eyes out the window as Sam untied the roped binding his hands. "What if he doesn't?"_

_"I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you."_

_"What if he comes when you're gone?" Those wide eyes turned back to him, questioning, begging._

_Sam stared back, unable to come up with a decent response. He couldn't stay with his brother 24/7. It would be impossible. He couldn't leave, either. "What do you want me to do, Dean?" he asked, but he already knew the answer._

_"I want you to stay with me. Forever."_

_Sammy sighed. It seemed so simple coming from the child's mouth, so innocent. That was what Dean had wanted all along, wasn't it? A family. Someone to stick around, no matter what. Forever. No fires, no hunting, no college, no death. It was easy, right?_

_"Dean-"_

_"Please? I promise I'll be good."_

_Good. Right. Because that made such a difference. Who would want to put up with a bad kid when you could have a good one, one who followed orders like a soldier and kept house like a mother and stole Christmas presents for you when daddy didn't get home on time? Why would you ask for a kid when you could have an adult in a little body, an adult that took on so much responsibility so early in life that he went behind the back of everyone he knew just to feel safe and loved once in a while? Why take a kid when you could get someone who would lose his virginity before starting high school because some slut had told him that she loved him? Why would you want a kid who wouldn't take orders when you could have one that believed anything?_

_"Sammy?" Sam shook his head to clear it, noticing instantly the way his brother's eyes dropped and his shoulders slumped. "What if I stop pretending? Then can I stay with you? What if nothing changes? What if we go back?"_

_"What?"_

_Dean looked back up at him. "You don't have to take care of me anymore."_

_And Sam's heart broke. Because things weren't supposed to be like this. Dean wasn't supposed to sound so hopeless, so depressed, so determined to give everything he'd ever wanted growing up just to hang on to the remaining shreds of his family._

_"No," Sam said, "no, don't… don't do that. We'll figure something out. We'll find a house out of the way of everything and we'll lay low and nothing bad is gonna happen to you."_

_The boy's eyes got even wider. "But, I thought-"_

_"Don't think, kid, you'll hurt yourself."_

_"So, you…?"_

_"I'll pretend," Sam grinned, wrapping his arms awkwardly around the boy, "if you will."_

_And that was that._


	5. Chapter 5

Just a head's up. If you like this chapter, you should consider checking out my most recent one-shot (which will stay that way LOL) called "Mirror, Mirror." It was inspired by this chapter.

* * *

Something was wrong. Sam could tell. He had gotten used to being the first one up, to shoving the small body to one side to get out of bed, to disentangling the skinny arms from his own lanky frame.

This morning was different. The motel bed was more crowded than usual. The arms that had wrapped themselves around Sam in the middle of the night weren't tiny. They were think, muscular. Not the arms of a child.

Dreading what he would see, Sam opened his eyes and looked at the body in the bed next to him. Short, dark hair topped the head of what had been a freckle-faced blond the night before. A well-built, six-foot-one frame took up half the bed. The adult that had been a child the night before, that would probably never get to find out whether or not Harry triumphed over Voldemort, rolled over, dumping a ragged teddy bear onto the floor.

It wasn't the first time since being cursed that Dean had caused his brother's heart to ache, but this time it was different. It wasn't aching for what could now be that had never been before. It was aching for what could have been but would now never be. Dean's second chance had left the building, and Sam had a pretty good idea who had taken it.

He laid back down, unwilling to disturb his brother.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_"I want a birthday party."_

_The request was small and soft, but Sam heard it, nonetheless, and it filled him with more happiness than he ever would have thought possible. Since he'd agreed to stay with his brother, the boy had opened up, had started asking for things, had started trusting him._

_"A birthday party?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow and turning from the open road to stare at Dean._

_"Yeah," Dean said, "the last time I had one was when I turned four."_

_The older hunter swallowed hard. Four? It seem unfair somehow, especially since Dean had made sure that Sam had a party every year. "What do you want?"_

_"I told you. A party. A celebration of the fact that I exist."_

_"No. I mean, what do you want for your birthday?"_

_Dean shrugged. "I dunno yet. It's still, like, seven months off, right? I'll come up with something. Just wanted to give you time to prepare." He smiled and settled back into his seat._

o0o0o0o0o0o

His feet touched the floor. His feet touched the floor, and he was scared and sad and angry all at the same time. Because his feet touched the floor.

Dean glanced back into the bed, a sorrowful stare intended only for his brother. He knew that that gaze had lost its power during the night, knew that Sammy would be immune to it because only cute little kids can pull off the cute-little-kid stare. His days of getting what the wanted were over.

Not that he'd had many days like that, mind you.

Running a hand through his recently shortened hair, Dean got to his feet, hating the fact that he didn't have to jump to get out of the bed. He trudged into the bathroom and flipped on the light. He could reach the switch without effort, and he hated that, too.

The mirror mocked him. The face staring back sneered, deepening the lines around his mouth, his eyes. He was older. Older and wiser and perfectly capable of taking care of himself.

It was the eyes that mocked him the most, though. The eyes still held that little-kid quality, had for years. Somewhere, deep inside, something in him cried out, something small and weak and defenseless. It was something he'd buried years before, something that he'd stupidly let see the light of day, and now it wanted to play, wanted to cuddle, wanted its daddy. It didn't want its real daddy, though. It wanted the nice daddy, the one that gave it what it wanted and didn't _hate_ it.

It was such a small thing that he pushed it out of the way, scared it off like he had so many years before. This time he used force, used the power of his fist through the mirror. There was no need to tell it tales of fires and monsters and demons that hid in the darkness. It had become accustomed to those things. The only things it responded to anymore were disappointment and force, fear and rejection.

The broken pieces of mirror clattered to the floor and Dean knew what he had to do. He had to beg for another chance. He just hoped he wasn't too late.

o0o0o0o0o0o

_He wrapped small arms around his brother, laid his head on Sammy's chest, close enough to hear his heart beating, to know that it would never stop, not as long as Dean needed him. _

_It was everything he'd ever wanted. Love and proximity and kindness and the weightlessness that came with the lifting of everything from his small shoulders._

_And they were so small now._

_He curled closer to his brother, to the imposing giant of a man that would keep him safe from all harm, and closed his eyes. He was safe. He was happy. He was loved. And he finally had a father._

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The motel room door opened and Dean straightened, crossing his thick arms over his firm chest and hating himself for it, for the way it felt. He was supposed to be tiny, puny.

Bobby was halfway across the parking lot before he noticed Dean standing there, wearing Sam's too-big clothes because they'd gotten rid of everything that had once fit him, staring blankly.

"Dean," he managed, dropping his bags to the pavement and offering a slight, confused smile, "what are you doing here?"

Dean blinked, stepping onto the pavement from the weedy grass, wincing as sharp rocks dug into his bare feet. "You have to undo it."

"Undo what?"

"He's gonna leave now," Dean blurted, unable to stop himself, He was desperate, was running out of time, needed to get his point across, to keep his brother. His father. Whatever Sam was to him.

"Who's gonna leave?"

"Da- Sammy. Sam's gonna leave because I don't need him anymore."

Bobby shook his head. "After effects."

"I'm not cursed," Dean yelled, his eyes narrowing, "and it's all your fault. If you hadn't done this to me everything would be fine."

"I helped you."

"You took everything."

"Your brother's not gonna leave you. If he was gonna leave-"

"He felt bad for me. He said he would stay to take care of me. But he doesn't have to anymore and it's all because of you."

"Dean, go home."

"I don't have a home," he shouted, rushing forward and pinning the older man to a near-by car, "you chased us out of it."

"You were living-"

"For once on my life!" Dean finished. "I didn't have to worry about being the responsible one and I got to _live_. And now it's over."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Change me back," he whispered, trying that little-kid stare, the wide-eyed gaze that had gotten him so much, taken him so far, "please. I don't wanna live like this."

"Like what?" Bobby asked, "an adult?"

"Like I'm broken and no one wants to fix me because I should be able to do it myself."

"You're not-"

"But dad tried and he might've been able to do it if I'd just had a little longer. Maybe he could have _fixed_ me."

"Your daddy's been dead two years now."

Dean shook his head. "Stop trying to change the subject."

"You're the one who brought him up."

"I didn't!"

"You said-"

"I said Sam," Dean muttered, "_Sam_ tried. He just needs a little more time. Please, Bobby. If you can undo it, then you can do it, too, right?"

The older man struggled from his grip. "After effects," he reiterated, picking up his bags and turning toward his truck. "You'll see more clearly tomorrow."

Dean knew that he wouldn't.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_He liked being carried. He'd never known it before, had fought tooth-and-nail, but now he liked it._

_Maybe it was the situation. Sam wasn't just awkwardly picking him up and slinging him over one shoulder for no reason. No, he was doing this to help, to provide comfort, to save what they'd found._

_He stopped Bobby, stopped whatever ritual it was that could send Dean back to the land of the adult, all tall and muscular and miserable. He did it because he wanted to help. He did it because he wanted to keep the kid a kid._

_And that was that.

* * *

_Final chapter will go up in a couple of days, so keep your eyes open! 


	6. Chapter 6

I'm sick. Three days before District Speech and I'm sick. I hate life.

In totally unrelated news, this is the final chapter, so please enjoy. I know it will seem a bit odd, butIabsolutely love the ending. I just hope that you will, too.

Thanks so much for reading, and keep your eyes open for my next story, "On Angel's Wings 5." Yeah, I said it. It might take a bit longer, but it's coming :) I think.

* * *

"Where were you? I was worried sick." And for a minute it was like nothing had changed, like he'd stayed out too late with his friends, like Sammy had actually been worried. Like he was dad again.

And then Dean looked up, saw that Sam's mouth was in his direct line of sight as the taller man approached, and hated himself. He shouldn't have been that tall. He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

"I went to see Bobby."

"You found him?"

Dean shrugged. "Wasn't that hard. There's only one other motel in town."

"What did he say?"

"After effects." Dean muttered. "And then he left."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

Sam shook his head, confusion written across his face. "For what?"

"Everything." And then it all began to pour out of him, a torrential storm of a last-ditch effort to keep what he'd found. "I'm sorry if I was a brat, and I'm sorry for what I asked for, and I'm sorry that you had to do everything alone, and I'm sorry I was so clingy and that I made us share a bed and that I wanted so much and I'm _sorry_."

The once-again younger man blinked. "What?"

"Don't leave," Dean whimpered, "please." He let his eyes slide shut, blocking off the tears that had gotten so used to flowing over the past two months. "I swear, I'll be good."

The room fell silent and Dean gulped back emotion, longing, needing, everything that he'd let out, everything that shouldn't have gotten out, the thing inside that always asked for more.

He wanted more than anything to run into his father's arms, to smell the familiar scent of motel soap and sweat and blood, to be safe. But he knew that he couldn't, because he wasn't a child. He was an adult, and adults don't do that kind of thing.

Apparently, though, Sam did.

Dean jumped, just as he had that first night, his feet actually leaving the floor as Sam enveloped him in strong arms. "I'm not going anywhere," the taller man whispered, "and things are gonna be different."

Dean pulled back to stare at his brother, careful to stay in the protective circle of the younger man's arms. "What?"

"I bought an apartment. In Rhode Island. I figured, if you wanted to start over…"

"But I can't. I mean, look at me."

Sam nodded. "Yes, Dean. You're very pretty. Don't worry about it. Daddy took care of everything."

Dean blinked, trying to process, trying to figure out if the last sentence was just as mocking as the mirror had been. It wasn't. "I don't get it."

"I asked around," Sam explained, "and Ellen has a friend that used to be a member of a coven of witches. They tried to sacrifice her, and she fled. Ellen kept her safe, and the girl owes her a favor. So, if you want to be that favor…"

"She can change me back?" He could hear the hope in his voice, feel it shining through every pore on his body, radiating from him, giving him away, leading him to more pain and loss and despair.

"Yeah," Sam said, "she can fix it."

Before he was even conscious of what he was doing, Dean had fallen back into his brother's embrace, letting the tears fall freely. "Daddy?" he whispered cautiously, unsure of the reply he might get.

"Yeah, kiddo?"

He smiled. "I hurt my hand."

"I know you did. It's gonna be ok. We're gonna be ok."

o0o0o0o0o0o

_Dean remembered. He remembered everything, and he hated himself for it. He hated looking at small hands and knowing that they were supposed to be bigger, hated blowing shaggy blond bangs out of his eyes and knowing that they weren't supposed to be there. He hated remembering what it was like the first time, the first time he had to give everything and do more._

_He didn't have a nightmare. He was just happy to be small enough to curl up next to someone bigger, to wrap a strong arm around himself, to feel safe again. He wanted to be safe._

_He knew Sam was awake. He could tell by the way he was breathing, the twitching of his eyelids, the pounding of his heart. As long as Sam pretended, Dean would. He wanted it that bad._

_"Safe."_

_And that was that._

* * *

The End.

So, any final thoughts? Complaints? Declarations of love?

Thanks again for reading.

And That Was That.


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